


Crucible Steel

by Lairenuriel



Category: Angbang - Fandom, Pre-Angbang actually, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And foundry kink, M/M, My version of The Seduction of Mairon, Sorry - no smut, Vignette, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lairenuriel/pseuds/Lairenuriel
Summary: A Maia of Aulë Seduced.





	

April 14, 2017

Crucible Steel

 

Mairon gritted his teeth against Melkor’s kiss, refusing entry to a probing tongue.  He wrenched his shoulders back.  Both hands jerked up to push with all his might against the broad chest bearing down on him.

“ I am not an **_animal_** ,” He hissed in fury.

The Vala laughed softly.  He tightened his hold around the Maia’s straining torso.   “ No,” he agreed.  “ Oh no, little Maia, far from.”

They struggled a moment.  Mairon twisted, adamantly resisting an embrace that sought to encompass him – obliterate him.

“ What would you have, precious?  What do you want?  What do you _need_?” the Vala’s deep, rich voice filled Mairon's head.  Its mesmeric lilt drowned the rapid thuds of a frantic heart. “ This?”  Melkor spun him abruptly around.  Mairon jerked like a doll, his head whipping and lolling. 

One arm remained locked around him but the other reached out – palm up and strong fingers flicking wide.

A vision bloomed in the darkness before him – filled with pools of molten red.  Before Mairon stretched a foundry the likes of which even Aulë could not command… could not _envision_!

Great crucibles hung in long rows, extending further than the eye could see.  Yellow sparks danced violently through hot, stinging air.  Hundreds, no - thousands of molds accepted streams of glowing, molten metal.  Rivers of melted steel ran through deep troughs.  Blast furnaces sang constant, ripping song in time with their conflagrating inner fires.

On and on, it ran.  Flares of gold and blue shot up.  Whipped from rivers of flowing metal.  Slag burnt off and filled the air with thick, choking smoke as each crucible poured forth its carbon-rich treasure.

Mairon gasped, his eyes widening.  He stifled a hoarse cry as he comprehended the vision before him.  On and on…endless.  Disappearing into an unwritten future, it spread before him in glorious, unceasing flows of pure bronze, of carbonized steel, of alloys yet discovered.  Blazing swords quenched, tempered, in vats of dark oil.  The whisper of countless blades ground to edge-angles and stropped to the brightest, blinding shine.

Laddered Damascus, reptile scale Damascus, dragon tooth, rose, horseshoe, fireball, raindrop - more patterns than he could perceive rushed in a whirlwind before his dazed eyes.  Each consisting of hundreds of layers of beaten steel.  Strong, pure, and flexible.  Every blade a work of art in itself!

“ Is _this_ what you desire, little one?”

A multitude of hammers beat out their staccato rhythms on unseen anvils.  Sparks flew from innumerable glowing shafts as sharp tings filled the air, filled his head.  That ringing song overwhelmed the thunderous beat of his heart.  The Maia's golden eyes overflowed with tears.

Mairon moaned in disbelief – such fine metal, oh how he wanted it.  Longing filled him with a burning violence.  “ Yes,” his voice broke, “ _Yes!_ ”

“ It shall be yours.  _All_ yours, my precious….when you are _mine_.”

Mairon choked upon the lust that filled his heart and rose swirling into his head.  Nearly blind, dizzy with desire, he did not realize that both hands reached out wide.  Trying to grasp this insubstantial dream spread before him, he strained against Melkor’s clutching embrace.

“ Oh, look at it,” Mairon moaned, “ _Look at it!_ ”

As yellow fires flared and molten streams flowed pure, Melkor’s head came down.  He crooned hypnotically in Mairon’s ear, “ More iron ore than you can imagine, my bright spark, _all yours._ ”

A shadow moved thought the vision, approaching like dark magic through the bright rain of sparks rising from liquid metal.  Mairon’s eyes widened.  He fell silent, as it came closer, closer, and finally he saw…he saw himself.  Crowned in copper and gold!  Moving confidently along the foundry floor amid the bustling industry, the endless molds and steadily beating hammers, he saw _himself!_

“ I will give you all this, and more.” Melkor’s insidious whisper continued.  The Vala’s powerful body molded itself hard to his back, almost encompassing Mairon within Melkor's larger frame.  “ Submit to me.  Be mine…say _yes_!”

The Maia moaned, his hands still outstretched, “ Give it me…I would…I must….oh, please…”

“ Submit to me, _swear_ to me,”

“ Oh, what I would…what I could…”

“ Look to me  _alone!_ ”

“ Oh Yes,” Mairon sobbed, “ Yes, Lord -  _my Lord_  - let me…”

Melkor’s hand settled on Mairon’s flat belly, caressing taut muscle.  “ Do you remember what I taught you of crucible steel?  How to make it strong…make it flexible…make it pure?”

“ Yes!” Mairon gasped out.  Formulas of carbon to glass and sand to raw ore suddenly ran before his dazed eyes.  “ Oh yes!” For Aulë could never have finished the lamps without it…

“ Come, little one,” Melkor whispered, “ Let us make a blade together.”

Half a day’s effort, standing face to face, their hammers ringing steadily one after the other on a length of glowing steel - Mairon shuddered.  He collapsed, letting the Vala’s strong body support his whole weight.

“ Please,” The Maia gasped as Melkor’s lips found his neck, “ Oh, _please!_ ”

The Vala behind him gave a throaty, triumphant laugh into Mairon’s arched throat.

**Author's Note:**

> No sex. My Mairon wouldn't go for something that ephemeral.
> 
> Being incredibly depressed and suffering extreme anxiety, I've been watching Yuri on Ice obsessively - and somehow THIS is what you get. Nope, I don't get it either.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction from which no profit is made or desired but it is a contained work by a single author and no one has permission to reproduce, copy, or translate it, or parts of it, without express permission.
> 
> Forgive me, Professor Tolkien, I know what I do - but I do it with love.


End file.
